


Where Does the Good Go? Pt1

by uglykitten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:36:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglykitten/pseuds/uglykitten
Summary: "Off in the distance, about a mile away, stood a building: Med Tek. His hands clamed up, his chest felt tight, and he couldn’t catch his breath. The cure for Duncan was behind those walls. But...he didn’t exactly tell Atlas about his son’s condition. He wanted to after Fort Hagen, but he couldn’t after Atlas’s meltdown. How could he dump all of it on her now and ask for help?"I have written a few fanfics that I've kept private for a bit, but am now just posting for the hell of it.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, your turn to keep watch,” Atlas mumbled sleepily.

               Maccready rolled over with a groan. “Has it been three hours already?”

               Neither of them had gotten a full night’s sleep in days as they were making their way back to Sanctuary. They were taking their time coming back from the city; helping out caravans, taking out some Raider posts, helping farmers and other little settlements, normal stuff. Atlas had only been traveling with Maccready for a week or so, but his cranky demeanor was growing on her. He was an asshole with a smart mouth, but he made her laugh and he knew his way around a gun. He helped her modify some weapons, and taught her how to clean them and keep them in working order. They don’t do a lot of talking about their personal lives, which was fine by her; he was still good company.

               Maccready got up from the sleeping bag they had laid out in a long-abandoned shack. Maccready grabbed his rifle that was leaning against the wall and traded spots with Atlas outside. She nearly flopped down onto the sleeping bag and dragged her backpack to her head as a makeshift pillow.

               “God I can’t wait to be back in my own bed,” Atlas moaned.

               Maccready just grunted, and sat in the chair outside of the door.

 

In the morning, they started back on their track to the little neighborhood. The Pip-boy said they were about ten miles from their destination, and it was truly the home-stretch. Maccready seemed a little more irritable than usual.

               “What’s got your britches in a bunch?” Atlas asked finally.

               “What? Nothing,” he lied.

               “You’re getting all crabby. More than normal.”

               “I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.”

               She rolled her eyes but kept walking.

               Off in the distance, Maccready saw a large fenced area, presumably Sanctuary. From what could be seen, the entire settlement had walls around its perimeter. His stomach grew more uneasy; he wasn’t sure why he was feeling so on edge. Maybe it was reminding him of the Capital Wasteland? Or did it remind him of how much he didn’t have a home? He missed Duncan a lot, that was part of the issue too. He tried to shove it down, and ignore it.

               They were a few yards away when Atlas heaved a sigh of relief. She picked up her pace and Maccready struggled to keep up.

               “Hold it right there!” a man called from the guard tower next to the gate; he aimed right at the two travelers.

               Atlas didn’t slow her pace, and Maccready caught her by the elbow. “What’s the matter with you?!” he said in a low, panicked voice.

               She shook him free and called back to the guards, “It’s just me! And a friend!”

               The guards lowered the weapons, “Oh! Welcome back, General!”

               _General?_ Maccready thought _. I thought she was lying…_

               They opened the gate, revealing a beautifully restored neighborhood. The pavement on the road was still cracked, the houses were still damaged, but they were being patched up and cared for. There was green, everywhere. Grass was growing, there were little gardens in the yards of each house, it was thriving.

               Atlas greeted the guards with a warm smile as they passed through the gate. They continued up the road towards Atlas’s house, passing settlers gardening, sweeping the sidewalks, more guards patrolling the area, and, to Maccready’s surprise, children playing. His heart felt heavy again. He said nothing.

               Atlas entered a house, while Maccready hung back at the doorway, where Preston and a few other Minutemen were huddled over a table.

               “General. Glad to see you back in one piece,” Preston greeted her with one of his warmest smiles. “We’re planning on scouting out some new territory. Set up some settlements further west.”

               “That’s great! I just got back, but fill me in later,” she said as she rifled through her pack. She handed him two thick brown books. “I just stopped by to give you these. They’re some world history books that are in pretty good condition.”

               His face lit up, but he quickly recomposed himself back into his professional manner. “Thank you, General. We’ll talk more soon.”

               She waved at the others gathered around the table before turning to leave.

               “General,” Maccready mocked as she rejoined him.

               “All the livable houses are taken at the moment,” she said, ignoring him, “and Sturges and his team are still working on the vacant ones, so you’ll be crashing at my place.”

She had such a weird way of talking. It wasn’t local to the Commonwealth, and he never heard people talk the way she does as he travelled from the Capital Wasteland. Maybe she picked it up from some of the Pre-War ghouls? Was she good friends with Daisy or something?

               She led him to the house across the street. The living room and kitchen were both fully furnished with furniture that was a little worse for the wear, but was still very homey.

               “You can stay in the room at the end on the right,” Atlas said, gesturing down the hallway. “There’s hot running water in the bathroom, but keep the shower under 10 minutes.”

               Maccready let out an exhausted sigh of relief, and started heading towards the bathroom.

               Atlas chuckled. “I’ll go find you some clean clothes. Make yourself comfortable.” She unraveled the rifle from her back and unloaded the rest of her weapons onto the coffee table. She stripped off her bulky chest piece, shoulder and arm guards, revealing a worn leather jacket with an undershirt. Maccready hadn’t seen her without her armor in the week that he’d known her; he felt embarrassed for some reason and headed down the hallway to his temporary room.

               Atlas returned to her humble abode with a nearly empty backpack, clean clothes for Maccready, and 1,000 caps richer. She knocked on the door to the bathroom where she heard the shower running.

               “I have clothes and a towel for you,” she called as she cracked the door open. She crowed her arm through the space and set the linen on an end table.

               “Thanks!” she heard Maccready call through the wall. She smiled to herself; he sounded happier now that he could properly wash ten days’ worth of grime and soot off.

               She made her way into her own room and heard the shower shut off. She went over to her dresser to retrieve some clean clothes and pulled out a t-shirt and some jeans. She sighed as she held the ratty fabric in her hands; she missed her old wardrobe. She missed all her sweaters, and blouses, and _skirts._ They’re so impractical in this world, but oh man did she miss her skirts.

               She snapped out of her day dream to see Maccready standing in her doorway, drying his hair with a towel. He looked younger now that he wasn’t covered in dirt and blood and sweat. The shirt hung loose on him, and he had to roll up the legs of the jeans. She smiled again; she almost forgot that he was barely taller than her.

               He stood uncomfortably in the doorway, and she realized what he wanted to ask.

               “Oh! There’s some food in my kitchen. Mostly canned stuff. But there’s a public kitchen-type place down the street where you can get something…more filling. I just call it ‘the Mess Hall.’ No one else likes that name.”

               “Good to know,” he replied, turning on his heels.

               Atlas took her things with her to the bathroom; she turned on the water to the shower and waited for it to warm up. It didn’t. She groaned loudly, hoping Maccready was still in the next room to hear her. She heard him laugh as a reply and scowled. She sucked in a breath and got in, quickly scrubbing all the grime off her skin and caked dirt out of her hair.

               She exited the bathroom with her dirty clothes in hand, and feeling refreshed despite her cold shower. She turned to grab Maccready’s old clothes laying near the doorway to give them a proper wash, and walked back into her room.

               “Why’s there a crib in here?” Maccready called from the other room.

               Her heart sank as she tossed the clothes on the floor. “It was there when I got here,” she called over her shoulder. It wasn’t a total lie.

               “Why haven’t you moved it out?” he asked, moving into her doorway with a half-empty pack of snack cakes in hand. She assumed the other half was in his mouth.

               “Why haven’t you gone and gotten real food?” she retorted, snatching the box from his hands. “Too scared to go without me?”

               He grimaced and blushed simultaneously.

               “I’ll show you where the Mess Hall is; I’m starving,” she groaned with her hand on her abdomen.

               They left her house and headed down the road to a big shack built on an empty lot. Settlers waved and greeted Atlas as she walked, which she gleefully returned. It was strange for Maccready to see her in this setting; not wearing armor, friendly, and approachable. He once saw her take down three Raiders with only an ammo-less shotgun that she used as a baseball bat.

               A small group of children ran up to the pair. “Miss General! Can we play with Dogmeat?!”

               She laughed. “Piper was puppysitting him while I was away; I think he’s still at her house.” She pointed at a house down the block, and the kids thanked her as they ran off giggling.

               “There are kids here,” Maccready mused.

               “Yeah, once we got this place in working order, families from all over came to settle down,” Atlas said back, drifting off. “It’s nice to have them around.”

               They arrived at the Mess Hall; the air around it smelled delicious. The man behind the counter smiled at them. “What can I get ya, Atlas?” he asked.

               “Something hot, I don’t care what,” she said throwing her hands in the air.

               The man slid some meat off the grill behind him and laid it on a plate. He added a side of seasoned vegetables, and handed it to her.

               “I’ll just have one of those,” Maccready said, wide-eyed with hunger.

               They sat down at an empty table with their meals. They both ate in silence, mostly because they inhaled their food. Atlas looked up with a mouth full of grilled radstag, and saw Maccready had done the same. They both laughed hard at each other, nearly choking on their food.

               “I can’t remember the last time I had a real meal that didn’t cost me a pocketful of caps,” Maccready smiled.

               Atlas hummed in acknowledgment.

               Maccready leaned in, looking at her intently; she raised an eyebrow at him.

               “I saw a vault suit at your house,” he said plainly.

               Atlas heaved a sigh and leaned back. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the Time Traveler everyone’s been talkin’ about.”

               He raised his eyebrows. “That’s you?” He laughed deeply. “That’s fu—freakin’ rich.”

               She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “I’m glad your amused.” She gathered her dishes and began to walk out.

               Maccready scrambled to his feet and followed her. “It’s just so…crazy. I thought they were rumors.”

               “Well they’re not.”

               She set her plate and utensils in the wash bin, exiting the building.

               “Look, I didn’t mean to piss you off,” Maccready started to say, but was interrupted.

               “It’s fine. It’s a shitty situation I’m still coming to terms with,” she explained flatly, but genuine.

               They walked back to her place in silence; mostly because Maccready was still taking in his surroundings. He’d never seen a settlement so well off. Diamond City was fortified and developed, but it lacked the feeling of home that this place had. It was the kind of place he had always dreamed of living in with- Nope. He wasn’t going to let his mind go there.

               They arrived back at Atlas’s house; the sun was setting and with a full stomach, all either of them wanted to do was sleep. Dogmeat greeted the two as they entered the house and followed Atlas back to her room.

               “There are extra blankets in that closet if you need them. Sleep ‘til whenever,” Atlas mumbled, now sleepily, from her doorway. “G’night.”

               Maccready waved as he closed the door to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

Atlas rolled out of bed fully rested. Her body was stiff from sleeping like the dead, but she felt revived. She slipped on a pair of lounge pants and started to make her way to her kitchen. She peered into Macready’s room first, and saw him completely tangled in sheets and blankets, snoring lightly. She left the door cracked, and continued to the kitchen. She began to boil water in a kettle to make herself some coffee. She felt a sort of peace; that her life was semi-normal, like before. She sighed and smiled to herself as she closed her eyes and pretended she was somewhere else. She heard Maccready’s door open, and a moment later he appeared in the kitchen. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he sat down at the kitchen counter.

               “How’d you sleep?” Atlas asked pouring hot water into a mug.

               “Fantastic,” Maccready replied hazily. He stretched his arms across the counter flexing his fingers. “That’s one hell of a bed.”

               She mixed some brown powder into the mug and handed it to him; she poured another mug for herself. She took a sip from the cup as there was a knock at the door; her Pip-boy said it was 11 a.m. She opened it to see Nick and Piper standing at her doorstep.

               “Blue! We’ve got some good news!” Piper exclaimed, pushing past Atlas into her home. She paused as she saw Maccready sitting in her kitchen wearing just boxers and a t-shirt.

               “Oh, I forgot you had company,” she added.

               “Ignore him,” Atlas said waving a hand in dismissal. “What’s the good news?”

               “Well it’s not really ‘good’ news, just a development in your current case,” Nick chimed in, entering the house.

               Atlas stiffened. “And?”

               Nick peered over her shoulder at Maccready, who pretended not to be listening.

               “We found Kellogg’s whereabouts,” Nick continued. He handed her a map of the Commonwealth with an area south of Sanctuary circled. “Our intel shows that he should still be hunkered down in Fort Hagen.”

               “We think he’s working for the Institute!” Piper exclaimed.

               Atlas held the map in her hands, staring down at it for what seemed like an eternity.

               Piper laid a hand on her shoulder. “This is good news, we’re one step closer to finding Shaun.”

               Atlas smiled at the both of them. “Thank you.”

               “We’ll let you plan your next move. Let us know if you need anything,” Nick told her sympathetically.

               Piper gave her a tight embrace, and they both left.

               Atlas turned around with the map in hand, gripping it a little tighter than she had anticipated. Maccready was turned around staring at her mid-sip. She returned his look with a glare.

               “Fort Hagen, huh?” he said with a sparkle in his eye. He tried to sound more nonchalant, but he was mostly just excited to get back out on the road; staying in one place too long made him anxious. He realized his response wasn’t what she had wanted because her glare only hardened.

               “Yeah, get your shit together. We’re leaving ASAP.”

               He wasn’t sure what ‘asap’ meant, but he assumed it meant now. He put down his mug and went to grab his rifle.

 

“Fuck!” Atlas yelled as she struggled to push the mongrel off her before putting a bullet in its head. She sat up, now covered in mud and blood, and tried to brush the clumped hair from her face. Maccready approached her slinging his rifle over his shoulder and stuck out a hand to help her to her feet.

               “So who’s this Shaun we’re after and why does Kellogg have him?” Maccready asked when she was standing.

               She didn’t answer him and checked the clip in her pistol for ammo. “I’m running low, maybe we’ll pass some traders in the next few miles.”

               “Here.” Maccready rifled around in his pack, pulled out a full magazine, and tossed it to her.

               “Thanks,” she replied shoving it in her pocket.

               “Are you ever going to answer any of my questions?” he whined.

               She sighed. “Why do you want to know?”

               He was caught off guard by the ‘why’ and then blood rushed to his cheeks. “I...” is all that came out.

               Atlas’s face, too, went blank before she burst out into laughter. “Oh my _god_! You consider me a _friend_ don’t you!?” She looked up at him, standing wide-eyed and embarrassed, which only brought on another wave of laughter. “You _like_ me!”

               He crossed his arms and averted his eyes; Atlas continued to keel over. She finally settled down, wiping tears from her eyes.

               “You done?”

               She sucked in breath and regathered herself in an instant. “Yes.”

               She grabbed her pack off the ground and started back on their path, still chuckling under her breath. Maccready groaned and jogged up next to her. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Atlas spoke up.

               “I’ll answer a question about me if you answer one about yourself,” she said carefully.

               Maccready considered it for a moment before agreeing.

               “Shaun is my son,” Atlas said flatly.

               Maccready walked in a trance. _Oh shit_ , he thought. That explains the crib. A baby? Missing in the Commonwealth? Wait, wasn’t she frozen in a vault for a century? Or was it two? Maccready suddenly found himself trying to remember everything he ever heard about ‘The Woman Out of Time.’ He never really paid attention, or listened, whenever he heard drifters and traders talk about it. He _did_ think it was all a rumor up until Atlas flat-out told him.

               “Where are you from?” Atlas asked, interrupting him from his thoughts.

               “Uh, south,” he replied just as flat, although he desperately wanted to lighten the tension.

               “How far south?” Atlas asked, curiously.

               “It’s my turn to ask a question,” Maccready objected, childlike.

               They walked for about an hour, asking questions back and forth, learning more about one another. The tension lightened as they both revealed personal information about themselves, and even more so when they sprinkled in some less-loaded questions like their favorite foods and weapons and such. Maccready laughed at her in confusion as she asked strange questions like, what was his favorite animal or his favorite type of flower. She retorted by saying those were pretty common get-to-know-you questions from ‘back in the day’ which provoked endless teasing from Maccready, saying she sounded like a grandma.

               In the midst of their conversation, there was a rumble off in the distance.

               “A rad storm is gonna roll through here soon. We need to find shelter,” Maccready observed.

               “Look, over there,” Atlas pointed to a little shack nestled into the edge of a line of trees.

               They made there way over, cautiously, and discovered that the place was empty. Once inside, the two began to cover the few windows with wooden planks, tarps, old sheets, whatever might help deter radiation from the storm. Atlas took a dose of Rad-X and handed some to Macready. “Just to be careful,” she said.

               Maccready sat down against the wall and emptied his pack. He shoved a snack cake in his mouth as he sorted through his ammo, taking inventory. Atlas was off in the other small room scavenging any junk she might find useful. She sat down next to Maccready on the floor and sorted through her own inventory.

               “Starting a collection of useless crap?” Maccready asked.

               “This useless crap is what keeps us fed, smartass,” she snapped back. “That reminds me.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a little draw-string pouch. “This was from the other night when I sold all that ‘crap’ I picked up on our way back to Sanctuary.”

               His eyes lit up as he opened the pouch: caps. A lot of them.

               “That’s your share,” she said, pulling the cork of a bottle of liquor with her teeth. A loud clap of thunder boomed overhead, and she took a long swig.

               Maccready put the pouch into his bag, and took the bottle from her, taking a gulp. Atlas laughed and pulled out another bottle causing Maccready to laugh.

               “If we’re gonna be trapped here all night, may as well make the most of it,” she shrugged.

               Maccready clinked his bottle against hers with a smile.

               Atlas looked down at her bottle, running her thumb over the etchings. “So…you said you have a son back in the Capital Wasteland? How old is he?”

               Maccready sighed and took another large gulp. “He’d be…two. No, wait. He just had a birthday, he’s three,” Maccready groaned and rubbed his face. “I missed his freaking birthday!”

               “How long have you been gone?” Atlas asked with a furrowed brow.

               “Apparently over a year,” Maccready said frustrated.

               Atlas took another long sip; it was going straight to her head, but it was doing its job: numbing her brain.

               After the mention of Duncan, Maccready shifted uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but knowing now wasn’t the time. _I’ll wait ‘til after we find Kellogg_ , he told himself.

               Atlas lit a candle as the cabin seemed to instantly become black. Did time pass or was that from the storm? She couldn’t decide, thinking about it made her head swim. She got onto her knees to reach for a candle on the small table across from her, and she got wobbly. She giggled as she gripped the candle with what felt like all her force. She sat back down to see Maccready smiling at her with a raised eyebrow.

               “What?” she demanded with a smile.

               He put his hand to her lips. “So you’re a loud drunk,” he said, trying to listen outside for any passers-by.

               “Sorry,” she whispered, slightly embarrassed. She lit the candle with a match and placed it a few feet in front of them.

               “I was never much of a drinker, before y’know? My tolerance isn’t what you would call ‘high,’” she said using air-quotes. Maccready laughed at her again, causing her to laugh in return.

               This is the most she’s ever seen him laugh, or smile for that matter. It was nice. She didn’t want to ruin it by commenting on it, so she just enjoyed the moment. She enjoyed spending time with him, and talking with him more so. She pulled a stack of comics from her bag and settled against the wall more comfortably. Maccready’s eyes widened, and Atlas could have sworn that she heard a gasp.

               “What issues are those?” he asked pointing to the two copies of Grognak.

               She passed them to him, “I don’t remember, but I’ve already read those.”

               He ran his fingers over the cover; the pages were only slightly torn and faded, but was still readable. Maccready slumped against the wall immediately immersed in the comic. They both sat in mostly silence for the rest of the evening, reading and giggling and drinking.

              

               The following morning, the rising sun crept in through the cracks of the shack, dimly illuminating the room. Sometime during their overnight activities, the two had managed to inch closer to one another. Maccready had managed to close the gap between he and Atlas; probably inching away from the window to avoid taking anymore rads. Atlas laid down on the floor, using her backpack as a pillow, and had fallen asleep, mid-chapter in an issue of the Unstoppables. Maccready evidently did the same sometime after her.

               Maccready was the first to wake. He was laying on his back, an open copy of Grognak on his chest. He looked over to see Atlas curled up in a ball, forehead pressed against his shoulder. He lingered on her a moment longer before he realized she was shivering a little bit. He ignored it initially, heading for the door to go outside. He had his hand on the wood of the door when he groaned quietly to himself. He turned back and removed his coat and draped it over her. He was a huge softie, there’s no getting around it, no matter how hard he resisted.

               He exited the shack, and closed the door behind him. Atlas woke up at the sound, abruptly. Her heart fluttered for a second; she relaxed, and glanced around the room for Maccready. She looked at his coat covering her torso; _Well he couldn’t have gone far_ , she thought.

               She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and removed Maccready’s coat. She gathered the rest of her belongings: the comics, the empty bottles, the snacks, and shoved them back into her backpack. She stood up, a little dizzy with the faint hint of a headache, and began to holster her weapons’ belt. Maccready walked back into the shack; “Ready to head out?”


	3. Chapter 3

Atlas was running through the woods just outside of Fort Hagen. _The Institute has Shaun._ How long had she been running? Her lungs started to burn and the cool evening air stung her cheeks. _How the fuck am I supposed to find the fucking Institute?!_ She pumped her legs harder as she ran passed a cluster of bloatflies lingering around an old radstag carcass; they started to swarm her, and without hesitation, she unloaded a round into the group, blasting them all to bits. She reholstered her pistol to her hip, and hunched over trying to catch her breath.

               After confronting Kellogg, after _killing_ him, Atlas ran out of the building. Her head felt like a balloon and her stomach seemed to weigh thirty pounds heavier. Maccready had tried talking to her, but it all sounded like white noise. She had shed nearly all her belongings as soon as they climbed down from the roof of Fort Hagen. She only had her 10mm and a machete when she booked it towards the forest. She felt claustrophobic, even standing out in the open. She needed to…go.

               She leaned against a tree, wanting to cry, but instead she let out a bellowing scream. That seemed to relieve what was building up inside her. She was panting again when Maccready found her.

               “What the heck, Atlas?” he asked breathlessly as he dropped all her stuff on the ground.

               She didn’t have any answers; she didn’t know why she ran. She sat down against the trunk of the tree, and rested her head back. “I’m sorry, Mac.”

               He sat down next to her, taking off his hat, and running a hand through his hair. He was not the person to handle this situation.

               “You don’t have to apologize,” he started, “I was just worried.”

               She stared straight ahead, saying nothing.

               “I know you’re going through something, but it’s not the end,” he tried to soothe.

               Atlas dug into her pocket and pulled out some weird contraption she pulled off Kellogg; she held it in her palm.

               “Hey,” Maccready said with some enthusiasm. “We can take this back to the Detective, Nick, right? Maybe he’ll know what to do.”

               Atlas nodded and shoved the item back into her pocket; she let out a heavy sigh.

               “Alright, let’s go,” Atlas said at last, standing up. She gathered her belongings Maccready had dropped, as he got to his feet.

               As soon as he was stable, she plowed into him, full force, for a tight embrace. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in the tangled mess of her limbs. He stood there, motionless, not sure what to do. He opened his mouth to say something.

               “Shut up,” Atlas mumbled.

               Maccready did as he was told and awkwardly rested his hands on her waist. The hug lasted another three seconds, before Atlas abruptly pulled away. She turned on her heels to head back to the road, leaving Maccready in a daze.

               “That was a lousy hug by the way,” Atlas called over her shoulder.

               Maccready chuckled in confusion as he started after her.

 

               “Why do you have to say ‘yes’ every time someone’s in trouble?” Maccready complained for the millionth time.

               Preston had radioed Atlas on her Pip-boy when they were about halfway back to Sanctuary. Atlas agreed without hesitation and Maccready didn’t hide his lack of enthusiasm. They were currently on their way to Greentop Nursery to take care of a Raider problem, and they were still a day’s worth of travelling away.

               “Calm down, crybaby. There’s another settlement nearby where we can stock up on ammo and supplies,” Atlas replied.

               He grumbled under his breath. She stopped and turned to face him. She cupped his chin in one hand, and flutter her eyelashes.

               “I can get a really good deal at the shop: ammo for next to nothin’,” she winked.

               “When’d you get so good at dirty talk?” Maccready purred.

               Atlas laughed and yanked her hand away as they continued walking, when Maccready’s heart sank.

               Off in the distance, about a mile away, stood a building: Med Tek. His hands clamed up, his chest felt tight, and he couldn’t catch his breath. The cure for Duncan was behind those walls. But...he didn’t exactly tell Atlas about his son’s condition. He wanted to after Fort Hagen, but he couldn’t after Atlas’s meltdown. How could he dump all of it on her now and ask for help?

               But he had to tell her _. It’s right there,_ he thought. _I can’t just do nothing._

               “Hey,” he said in a shaky voice, stopping in his tracks.

               Atlas turned and gave him a quizzical look.

               “I…wasn’t entirely honest about Duncan,” he said, averting his eyes.

               He told her about Duncan’s illness, and his plan to get the cure back to him, and waited for Atlas to blow up with anger. He knew he would if he were her…

               She stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before answering.

               “Mac…of course I’ll help,” her voice was soft, catching him off guard.

               She kept walking, faster now, towards their new destination. Maccready hurried up behind her, feeling too guilty and ashamed to walk next to her; he couldn’t believe that he’d have any good fortune left after everything he’d done.

               As they approached the building, guns drawn, Maccready gave Atlas the rundown of his plan. The cure would be on the third floor labs, but the entire facility is rumored to be filled with ferals. They needed to get in and out as fast as possible.

               After putting down a cluster of ferals outside the building, they paused outside the door, Atlas ready to open it. Maccready laid his hand on hers.

               “Thank you for doing this.”

               “It’s what I do,” she smiled.

 

               They ran out of Med Tek, covered in feral blood, panting heavily, and each of them sporting a new assortment of scratches, cuts, and bruises. Maccready slammed the doors shut behind them as they leaned their backs against it, catching their breath.

               “Holy shi- crap,” Maccready sighed at last.

               Atlas looked over at him with a huge grin, making her new black eye throb and the cuts on her cheeks sting. She held out the vial with Duncan’s cure. Maccready took it, staring down in bewilderment.

               “I can’t…believe we got it,” he breathed.

               “We fucking got it!” Atlas shouted, throwing her hands in the air.

               Maccready laughed, _really laughed._ He couldn’t believe he finally had the cure for his son. Atlas was busy jumping around in celebration, when Maccready snapped back into reality.

               “Hey, we need to get this to Daisy. Her caravan is the only one I trust to get this to the Capital safely,” he told her.

               He tucked the tube into his coat pocket, fingers still wrapped around it. Atlas began to interject, when he finished her thought for her.

               “Right after we take care of the Raiders at Greentop.”

               She smiled again, but it immediately disappeared. She touched her tender face.

               “I also wouldn’t mind getting patched up while we’re there,” she winced.

               “Then let’s hit the road,” Maccready said, still giddy.

               They reloaded their weapons, adjusted their packs, and kept on their way. After a few moments of walking, putting the now-empty Med Tek behind them, Atlas broke the silence.

               “Why didn’t you tell me Duncan was sick?” she asked, a little offended.

               “I…don’t really know,” Maccready admitted meekly. “I didn’t really see any point to it, I didn’t think Med Tek would be so close, and I definitely didn’t think you’d help. At least not at first.”

               Atlas considered his words, and nodded.

               “Why were you so eager to help?” he asked in return. “You knew it was going to be challenging, even after all the crap you’ve done.”

               Atlas gave a small, exhausted smile, “Partly because I want to make this hellhole a more bearable place to live, and partly because I have a lot of pent-up anger I need to unleash.”

               Almost on que, a pack of wild mongrels noticed their approach, and began to attack. Before Maccready could aim his gun, Atlas put a bullet in all four of them. She gave Maccready a smile as she continued to walk. He let out a low whistle in approval.

               “And we’re friends, remember?” Atlas added nudging his arm.

               They had reached the road, or what was left of it after 200 years, which meant they were nearing the old nursery; they heard some commotion coming from that direction. As they walked up to the settlement from the rear, they saw nearly everyone was rejoicing in celebration.

               Atlas found Lincoln, the Greentop’s leader, and caught him by the elbow.

               “Where was my invite?” Atlas joked.

               “Oh! Our men took down those Raiders!” Lincoln replied, giving her a side hug. “We tried to get in contact with you, but we couldn’t get a strong signal.”

               “I’m so glad!” Atlas exclaimed. “What changed?”

               “I realized we need to get our act together. We can’t rely on you forever; you’re only one person,” Lincoln smiled. “Plus, after some of the training you gave us, a lot of our fighters felt confident they could take them on.”

               Atlas grinned, genuinely pleased, and looked out to the small group. Greentop had a population of 12, not counting the few regular caravans that had stopped to join in on the festivities. It was mostly people gathered around a campfire, drinking, and singing songs.

               “You two look pretty beat up, I’ll get the Doc,” Lincoln said touching Atlas’s cheek.

               He turned to enter the house, presumably where Doctor Rhoads was working, while Maccready and Atlas waited among the celebration.

               “Friendly guy, huh?” Maccready scoffed.

               Atlas glared at him, and then gave him a sly smile. “Jealousy isn’t a pretty color on you, Robert.”

               He pursed his lips as he blushed seven different shades of red. In the same moment, Lincoln leaned out of the doorway of the small abode, and waved the pair over.

“End of the hall to the left,” Lincoln guided, and exited the house.

They took turns as the doctor stitched up some of their cuts and treated their more serious wounds, while the other cleaned up their minor scrapes and scratches.

               “That should hold you two over,” Doctor Rhoads said as he snipped the thread on Atlas’s forearm; she thanks Rhoads and she left.

               Atlas stretched her arms and yawned, “We’ll head to Goodneighbor first thing tomorrow. We actually might be able to hitch a ride with one of these caravans.”

               “Perfect,” Maccready said, sprawling out on the only bed in the room; he hung his hat on the rusty bed post.

               Atlas crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. “What do you think you’re doing?”

               “What does it look like?” he replied, eyes closed and hands folded across his abdomen.

               “It looks like you’re taking the only available bed,” she retorted sourly.

               He responded with a low grumble, but otherwise ignoring her.

               “Fine,” she said flatly, removing her weapons’ holster and most of her armor so she was standing there in just her vault suit. “Move over.”

               “Huh?” Maccready cracked an eye open to Atlas shoving him to the other side of the bed with the weight of her body.              “You have _got_ to be kidding me.” She flashed him a toothy smile.

               It wasn’t a large bed, there wasn’t a way for them to not touch each other in some way. Atlas faced the opposite direction on her side, while he laid on his back with his hands still folded. He was too exhausted to put up a fight to get the bed to himself, but there was also a small part of him that wanted her to stay. He pushed those thoughts aside, and squeezed his eyes shut hard enough that he saw stars.

               They both slept soundly throughout the night, Atlas tossed and turned more than Maccready did, but he was so exhausted he slept through most of her rustling. What he couldn’t ignore was her constant nuzzling against him.  She had done it before in the shack back towards Sanctuary, which irritated him then, but now…he kind of liked it. She shifted her head from her pillow onto his shoulder while turning over, exhaling softly. His fingers twitched anxiously as he considered making a bold move, or what he considered was a bold move.

               He lifted his arm up and wrapped it lightly around Atlas’s shoulder, repositioning her head on his chest. He held his breath as she stirred in her sleep, but her eyes didn’t open so he relaxed. Moments later he drifted back asleep, Atlas in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

               Atlas woke up to the sound of the workers of Greentop starting their day. Her eyes fluttered open and she noticed she was nestled against Maccready’s side with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She was _mortified._ Had she situated herself against him in the middle of the night? Did he know? He had his arm around her too, was that intentional? Did he know? Did he mind? Did he _like_ it? She was spiraling.  However, she _was_ comfortable, and she did hate sleeping alone… She decided to enjoy it while it lasted and deal with the awkwardness later. She closed her eyes again and began to drift off.

               She started to think about her feelings for Maccready. They had been travelling together for only a short time, in the grand scheme of things, but the past few days she felt like she was starting to develop feelings for him. That made her feel guilty; guilty about moving on from Nate, guilty about getting distracted from finding Shaun, guilty about _Lucy and Duncan_. Oh god, they both have so much emotional baggage how could it ever go anywhere between them? She was spiraling again.

               She decided she couldn’t lay there anymore, she was drowning in self-hatred and confusion. She gingerly slid out from Maccready’s embrace, which was pretty firm… Maybe he did wrap his arm around her on purpose… _Oh my god stop_ , she yelled at herself. She slid on her boots, and redressed herself with her armor to go outside.

               She approached one of the caravan heads, Bea, and got her and Maccready two seats on their ride. She returned to Maccready to find him still asleep; she nudged his arm.

               “Wake up, we got a ride to Goodneighbor.”

               He sighed and rolled out of bed. He looked over at her as she was gathering her weapons, and pursed his lips to keep from smiling.

               “How’d you sleep?” he asked coolly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

               She gritted her teeth and looked away while trying to keep from blushing. “Fine,” she said quickly.

               She could have sworn she heard him laugh under his breath, but ignored it. “The caravan’s waiting, hurry up,” and she nearly ran out of the room.

               The pair situated themselves on the back of the cart a brahmin was towing, and ate in silence. Atlas was hyperaware of Maccready’s presence: did he always sit this close to her? Why did he look at her? How much eye contact does he normally make? It was pissing her off. Was he just toying with her? Did he know that he was driving her nuts? She sighed to regather herself, to restart her brain. She was over-complicating things that she wasn’t even sure existed.

               Maccready sat in silence nearly the whole trip for similar reasons. He had the same conflicting feelings as Atlas; how could be thinking about romance while Duncan’s sick? How could he ever put in the effort for a romantic endeavor with all the baggage he has? He wasn’t even sure he could love anyone again after Lucy… He pushed those thoughts deep down and focused on the matter at hand: getting the cure to Duncan. He’ll deal with all this other _stuff_ afterwards.

               They arrived at Goodneighbor, running into no trouble along the way, to both of their delight. The familiar smell of grime, sludge, and chems greeted them as they entered. Hancock greeted the pair as they entered.

               “Maccready, my man,” he gave him a tight embrace which Maccready returned. “Haven’t seen you around town in a while.”

               Hancock looked at Atlas with a smile, “At least you’re keepin’ good company.”

               Atlas rolled her eyes, returning a smile, “Quit your flattery.”

               He slung an arm around Atlas’s shoulders. “Oh, sunshine, you know that’s not possible. You need to come around town more.”

               “We’re actually here on time-sensitive business,” Maccready interjected.

Hancock dropped his grip on Atlas and gestured forward with his hand. “By all means.”

 

Atlas and Maccready clinked their glasses together down at the Third Rail. They were laughing and drinking while Magnolia sung in the background. The place was only about half-full, there were individual groups chatting amongst their selves; some drinking, some doing chems, but everyone was having a good time.

Atlas and Maccready had just dropped off Duncan’s cure to Daisy, and were rejoicing in their victory. She said her caravan would be departing at noon the following day, and would arrive at the Capital in a week.

               There were about four empty beer bottles in front of each of them and counting. “So what’s next for you, Mac?” Atlas slurred, cheeks flushed pink.

               “I… honestly don’t know,” Maccready mused, much less intoxicated than her. “I’ll see if Daisy can get one of her men to hang back and see if the cure…helps.”

               “Why don’t you go down with her caravan?” Atlas pushed, regretting saying it immediately. She didn’t want him to leave, but she couldn’t keep him from his son. She took another long sip of her drink.

               “I need to keep my promise to you,” he replied seriously. “I left D.C. to be a better person for my son. I can’t be selfish and walk away again.”

               Atlas stared at him for what felt like an hour; she couldn’t believe how much he’d sacrifice for her. The guilt was coming back to her. She shook it off, trying not to ruin either of their good night.

               “Thanks, I appreciate it, Mac,” she gave him a warm, drunken smile.

               They continued to carry on for the rest of the night. Atlas coaxed Maccready to tell her stories about the Capital, and she returned the favor by telling him stories about the Pre-War Commonwealth. At about 2am, they were both starting to crash. They made their way out of the Third Rail, and up to the Rexford Inn.

               They stumbled through the door of their room, still giggling. Maccready closed it behind them as Atlas flopped on the bed on her back. He sat on the chair in the corner and struggled to take his boots off. Atlas sat up to remover her chest piece and pulled her backpack onto her lap to look for some clean clothes. Maccready had made his way into the bathroom to attempt to wash up, and, without hesitation, Atlas began to change. She was sitting in her underwear and t-shirt when Maccready exited the bathroom in the same attire. Atlas flopped over to her side and started to fall asleep. Macready laughed as he tried to move her and cover her with a blanket.

               “Mac,” she slurred, eyes half closed, sitting up.

               “Yes?” he chuckled.

               She grabbed his face and looked into his eyes; she felt like she could cry. She pulled him in for a deep kiss. His eyes went wide and didn’t respond for a moment before reciprocating. His lips moved tenderly with hers, but got increasingly harder as he pulled her closer, one hand on her waist, the other tangled in her hair. She pulled away, leaving them both breathless. He gave her a crooked, nervous smile. She returned it with a look of concern.

               “You need to go see Duncan,” she said seriously, hands still cupped around his face.

               He was at a loss for words; he opened his mouth to say something, but bit his lip instead. He knew she was right. He wanted her to come with him, but she had unfinished business here.

               “Bring him the cure yourself, spend some time with him as he gets better,” she continued. “I still have to get back to Nick and figure out the missing pieces to this shit puzzle.”

               She released his face. “Daisy’s caravan is leaving at noon. Get some rest and go with them.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond; she situated herself under the covers, facing away from him. She felt him crawl under the covers next to her and settle in. Her eyes drooped shut as her body relaxed. She was upset, but she was also completely _exhausted_. She rolled over and Maccready immediately scooped her into his arms. She buried her face into his shirt and rested her hand on his torso. She was asleep a second later.

 

“I guess this is goodbye then,” Atlas said, trying to joke off the tension.

They were standing outside of Daisy’s Discounts as her caravan was getting ready to depart; Maccready stood with all his gear slung over his shoulder in a backpack.

“For now, at least,” Maccready replied, mimicking her fake-nonchalance. “I’ll be coming back.”

“Don’t rush, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she said with a wave of her hand. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable, especially since she didn’t know exactly how Maccready felt. She was trying to play it off cool, but she was sick to her stomach that he was leaving. She loved Piper and Nick and Preston, but Maccready was different.

The caravan leader finished tying some cargo to their brahmin and patted its side. “You two finished?”

“Almost,” Maccready said over his shoulder.

He cradled Atlas’s face and stroked her cheek with his thumb causing her to blush. He leaned and pressed his lips against hers; soft and sweet. She had her hands on his waist, gripping his jacket. They heard the caravan head cough impatiently, and Atlas giggled against Maccready’s lips; he pulled away smiling.

“Travel safe,” Atlas said softly.

Maccready nodded, still smiling and walked up to the gate of Goodneighbor to open it.

Atlas watched the group leave and the gate close behind them. She stood there for five minutes, not moving, waiting for it to sink in that he was gone.


End file.
